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by FictionalCharactersAreBetter
Summary: PREQUEL TO POSSIBILITY. Valentina Martinelli's life couldn't have gotten any harder after the death of her parents, after being struck homeless and with no one to turn to, a pale stranger's job offer is all that she has. But what was failed to be mentioned was that she would be working for the oldest and most powerful vampires.


Prologue

_Manhattan, New York 1988 _

Run.

It was the only instinct I had left; everything else had been stripped away from me, leaving me bare with the need to survive.

My breathing was ragged, coming out in short desperate breaths, the cold New York air frosty around me, leaving pinpricks on the skin of my face. The sound of the urgent smacks of the soles of my shoes against the concrete sidewalk kept in beat with every desperate breath I took; the impact almost musical.

The sudden stop of movement left my stomach churning and almost caused me to fall over my feet. I gripped the brick corner of a nearby building that led into an alleyway to stop me from collapsing into a heap against the dirty sidewalk. My raw and bleeding fingers gripped onto the sharp, rocky with dear life, but if was nothing compared to the desperate grip I held onto the small bundle in my coat.

I could hear her soft breathing against my chest and wrapped my coat around her tighter in a protective gesture, as if that could protect her from the cruel world I had brought her into. I snorted slightly, shaking my head slightly at my ignorance.

I stared shakily at my surroundings. I was in the rundown side of Manhattan, the lights of the skyline lighting up the distance. Some would say it was inspirational, after all it was supposedly the greatest city in the world, but for me, it just brought misery.

The world would carry on growing, developing, and they would only grow stronger.

I couldn't do this any more.

I let myself slide onto the pavement, shuffling slightly so I was between the shadows of the alley way. The left side of my body brushed against the cold metal of a garbage can causing me to shrink away in disgust at smell of rot and decay. I sighed, pushing a strand of my hair away from my face. So this is what it had come to: sitting in an alleyway surrounded by garbage, clutching my four month old daughter between my coat and cold body.

I carefully moved the collar of my coat away so I could carefully peer at her. She stared back at me, her eyes large and framed with dark lashes. I gently brushed my index finger across her cheekbone, feeling my finger warm up in the action. She continued to stare at me.

I looked away, my head against the cold brick wall so I stared at the dark sky above. She didn't deserve this, this pathetic excuse of a life I had brought her into based on my own selfish needs. Luca had already suffered and would continue to do so until his life came to an end. I knew I couldn't escape and was condemned to suffer the consequences.

I stared back down at her, knowing it would be the last time I would ever see her. Her delicate soft fingers escaped the cheap knitted blanket she was entangled in and were now reaching up at me; softly patting my collarbone, wanting attention.

She almost never made a sound, but her eyes were very analytical, watching me and communicating through her eyes. I was lucky to have her, but the same couldn't be said her. I sighed softly, bringing her hand against my lips before placing a gentle kiss against the side of her palm.

I stood up slowly, not wanting to startle her, but it was more of a reason to maximise the limited amount of time I had left with her. I cradled her slowly, hesitantly looking around my surroundings. I only wrinkled my nose at what I saw, but I felt it was what I deserved.

She didn't deserve to be left in garbage, but I knew someone would find her there and she would be passed onto someone better. I hoped.

The cold, sharp metal edges didn't look particularly appealing, and I knew anyone could have found her. The old wooden crates on the other hand... Sheets of newspaper, damp with the feel of water, lined the wooden crates, creating some sort of comfort and warmth. I just hoped that someone would find her soon; I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she had.

I took the first couple of crates from the top of the pile, placing them on the ground before taking newspaper out and placing them in the crate that I had left exposed, creating a makeshift bed. I sighed at my poor attempts, but placed her in it regardless. I stepped back, trying to tell myself this was for the best. She didn't look liked she was particularly comfortable or happy and her large eyes filled up with water, her arms reaching upwards.

I quickly went back to her, trying to soothe her by murmuring comforting things in Italian. Her whimpers almost immediately quietened down. We stayed like that for a few minutes, savouring our last minutes together. She gurgled softly, her small hand clutching a lock of my hair, as if she wanted me to stay. I bit my bottom lip, knowing it was time that I finally let go. I gently pried myself away from her, before I was staring at her from above.

Her eyes watched me carefully, hand outstretched, expecting me to come back to her like I always had, but not this time or ever. I suppose I could have left her in London, but I knew it was risky to fly back, especially since the Volturi were constantly watching me. I closed my eyes tightly, before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

"Goodbye _bambino," _I murmured softly as a tear washed down my cheek.

I didn't look down as a placed the crates on top of her, but not in the stacked pattern I had found them in. I left space in between them so she could easily be seen and heard from the right angle. I stepped back, waiting for the crying to start. I needed to know that someone would soon hear her, and in turn somehow settling the nerves I had in the bottom of my stomach.

I didn't take long. And I soon left the darkened street corner before placing myself under a street light further along the street.

They say your life flashes in your eyes when you die. I don't think anyone can support the hypothesis, unless you escaped the curse of life. It was more like a rush of impact then darkness and pain, then nothing. As if you were asleep, blissfully unaware of the world, you wouldn't know that you would never wake nor would you dream.

But those red eyes would always haunt me.

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**If you haven't read my story **_Possibility, __**which is set after this, it's on my profile but you should skip to chapter twelve which is where that story really gets interesting.**_

**Please review, I'd like to know what people think of this, even though it's only the first chapter, espcially if you read Possibility before this.**


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